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by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Challenges, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/peanutbutterjelly-pie
Summary: -There are apocalypses and monsters and nightmares.But between all of this Dean and Castiel are just trying to manage their lives together. And that turns out to become surprisingly domestic.-
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 86
Kudos: 152





	1. Feather

**Author's Note:**

> -
> 
> 10 oneshots written for the [SPNStayAtHome challenge](https://bend-me-shape-me.tumblr.com/post/614472314736836608/things-arent-easy-right-now-we-have-to-stay).
> 
> There is no real chronology between the individual installments, but they all take place in the same universe. Some will be established relationship, some will be pre-relationship.
> 
> And there will be lots of fluff and sappiness, so please prepare for that accordingly ;D
> 
> -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Soft mornings.
> 
> -

Castiel wakes up to something soft brushing over his naked back.

He smiles into his pillow and for a moment decides to just enjoy the sensation. He's not fully awake yet, has no idea what it is that's currently skidding over his skin, but subconsciously he knows he's safe. No alarm bells going off in his mind, no instincts kicking in.

There is just a nice warmth.

His smile widens as he recognizes Dean's smell on his pillow and slowly begins to remember the night before. How they found into each other's arms for the first time – not driven by adrenaline or desperation, like he always assumed it would eventually happen, but a quiet softness and peace as they shared the last slice of pie. Their first kiss had been so much more overwhelming than Castiel could have ever imagined. And at the same time so right and familiar, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Their second kiss turned out to be even more magnificent. And their third. And their fourth …

At some point, in Dean's bedroom, as they shed their clothes and gently explored each other's bodies, Castiel completely lost count. With Dean's hands and lips all over him it was kind of hard to concentrate on anything else.

And now they're here, the next morning, side by side.

Castiel tries to look over his shoulder and even though the angle is very awkward he catches sight of Dean behind him, brushing something soft over Castiel's skin with a tender expression on his face.

“Is that a feather?” Castiel wonders as he manages to identify the object.

Dean chuckles. “Yes, it is.”

Castiel squints his eyes and studies it even further. “Is that one of mine?”

Back when we was an angel with his wings intact he donated several of his feathers to the Winchesters for future purposes. Angel feathers are all kinds of rare, for obvious reasons, and yet still essential for a lot of spells and rituals. Castiel meant to give the brothers an advantage over their enemies.

He, however, never anticipated they might be used for something like this.

“Yes, it's one of yours,” Dean agrees, his voice laced with affection.

Castiel frowns. “How did you get it?”

He didn't notice Dean getting out of bed at some point. And he's pretty sure he wouldn't have missed that.

Dean's cheeks start to tinge a little pink as he admits, “It was in my drawer.”

Castiel feels a wonderful warm sensation spreading within his chest. “And how long has it been there?”

Dean leans in and presses a kiss between Castiel's shoulder blade, just where the feather has just been. “A while,” he says vaguely.

“Weeks?” Castiel prods.

Dean peppers his skin with soft kisses. “More like years.”

Castiel instantly rolls around and pulls Dean into a heated kiss, the feather squeezed between their bodies, as he finds himself once again awed by the luck that has been bestowed upon him.

When he pulled Dean tormented soul out of Hell he never expected to end up here one day.

Sometimes life takes a funny – and amazing – turn.


	2. Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Dean obviously managed to get himself a gentleman.
> 
> -

It's been really freaking cold.

Dean surely didn't expect that when he decided to take over the stake out a few hours back. It's been a pretty warm week all around and since he didn't feel any urge to do some research he figured sitting on an inauspicious bench for a few hours and keep a close eye on the suspect's house while listening to some music or reading the latest crime thriller Cas brought along after one of his trips to the local flea market seemed like a better alternative.

So he only had a light jacket with him because the forecast had been rather optimistic, but at some point the temperature apparently dropped nonetheless because that stupid weatherman obviously had no idea how to do his job and now, after several hours, Dean really feels chilled to the bones.

He releases a sigh of relief when the sun slowly starts to rise, indicating that his shift is about to end. Since whatever it is they're hunting is clearly nocturnal and doesn't appreciate sunshine and birds chirping early in the morning at all.

“Everything stayed quiet, I presume?” Like a ghost Cas suddenly appears next to the bench, the first rays of sunshine apparently luring him out of his research bubble.

“Not a peep,” Dean agrees.

And then he shivers all over, his muscles and generally his entire being more than keen to get into warmer premises.

Cas, of course, doesn't miss a thing. “Are you cold?”

“Well, it wasn't as cozy as I expected,” Dean grunts, unable to hide the sour note in his voice. For most of the night he considered calling Cas and asking him to bring a jacket over, but his pride kept him silent. After all, he insisted on trusting that dumb weatherman instead of heeding Cas' warnings.

“I told you to bring some warmer clothing with you,” Cas, naturally, can't help pointing out.

“Yeah, well, it's too late for that now,” Dean grumbles, more than ready to leave all of this behind and crawl underneath a blanket and tune out the rest of the world.

But just as he's about to rise from the bench Cas suddenly takes off his trench coat and puts it over Dean's shoulders, wrapping him into a mixture of warmth and Cas' intoxicating scent.

It's almost overwhelming and Dean feels himself flushing despite the cold.

“Well … what a gentleman,” he mutters, still not sure how to react in such situations but with bad jokes.

Cas, however, merely makes a humming sound as he gently takes Dean's hand and presses a soft kiss onto its back. As though he wants to prove Dean's statement true.

And Dean blushes even deeper as he follows his angel in a daze, wondering once more if his life is even real.


	3. Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> There is a filthy thief in the bunker.
> 
> -

“Okay, Cas, we need to have a serious talk.”

Dean's expression hardens as he watches the angel just finishing the first coffee of the day. He looks relaxed and soft and – unfortunately – also a little bit rumpled. Unfairly deliciously so even, at least in Dean's opinion. Cas picked up the habit of sleeping (or perhaps just recharging?) quite recently and proved to get worse bedhead every single morning than Sam and his freakishly long princess hair.

And it's been an annoying distraction ever since.

Even now Dean already feels his attention slipping as he looks at Cas with his rosy cheeks and his mop of a hair and the patch of skin showing as he slightly lifts his shirt to scratch his belly, putting his criminal hipbones right on display at the same time …

Yeah, _no_.

Dean faced several apocalypses and Gods and angels and demons and a life-sized, depressed teddy bear and he never lost focus once. So he won't allow Cas and his _damned bellybutton_ to defeat him!

“What do you want to talk about?” Cas appears utterly unfazed as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies Dean with an amused expression.

Since he knows _exactly_ what he is doing.

That bastard.

“How about we talk about the fact that you're a filthy thief?” Dean proposes, gritting his teeth.

Cas' features don't change at all at the accusation. “I think you might exaggerating a little bit.”

“Oh really?” Dean scoffs. “You recall the trip to _Target_ the other day. When we bought you all those _shirts_ and _pants_. Remember that?”

“Oh yes.” A soft smile flickers over Cas' lips. “We had ice cream after. It was very tasty.”

Dean rolls his eyes and suppresses the urge to agree with him there. That ice cream almost made him weep, yes, and that was only partially because Cas used _so much enthusiasm_ to lick it all up, his tongue wrapped around –

Ah _dammit_.

This is turning into a serious condition.

“I'm … I'm just saying,” Dean tries, his throat getting a bit dry. “You've got your own stuff now and everything. So stop stealing my fucking clothes.”

He glares at the shirt Cas is currently wearing. The one that had been in Dean's closet until yesterday, he's absolutely sure of that. And Cas' soft sweatpants which the hunter bought _for himself_ as a reward after a really bad hunt about two years ago.

“But I like them,” Cas says, as though that's reason enough.

“Jeez,” Dean hisses. “If you didn't like the stuff we got you you should've said something. Before we spent all that money.”

Cas tilts his head. “The clothes you bought me are perfectly fine.”

“Then why are you stealing my stuff all the time?”

Cas squints his eyes and studies him intently. “Do you want an honest answer to that?”

What kind of question even is that? “Yes, of course!”

Cas sets his mug aside and steps closer to Dean, his proximity sending a thrill through the hunter's body.

“I wear them because they are _yours_ ,” Cas states. “They are soft and well-worn and, most importantly, they smell like you. It's quite intoxicating, to be honest.”

Dean blinks.

Did he _seriously_ just say that?

Dean finds himself blushing as he splutters like an idiot.

Cas, meanwhile, just grins at him smugly. “ _That's_ why I like to wear your clothes. Do you have any objections to that?”

Dean feels like his entire brain is fried right now.

“Uuuhhh …” Dammit, how do words even work? “Uuumm … n-no?”

Cas smiles triumphantly. “Very good.”

And that's the end of their discussion.

Cas continues to wear his clothes, always with that pleased expression on his face, and Dean keeps on losing more and more brain cells along the way.

And when just a week later he finds out that Cas looks even more tempting wearing nothing but Dean's sheets, sprawled out on the memory foam mattress, Dean is officially dead to the world.


	4. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Making bets in dire situations doesn't seem to be Cas' favorite pastime.
> 
> -

Apart from the cold Dean barely feels anything. Especially nothing even resembling pain.

And he knows that's a bad sign because the gaping wound in his belly and the huge amount of blood oozing out of it should give him _some_ sensation of discomfort at the very least.

But there is nothing.

Even as Cas drags him through hallway after hallway and eventually shoves him into a tiny room and locks the door behind them Dean merely grunts rather due to exhaustion than anything else.

Yeah, not a good sign.

He watches as Cas barricades the door with everything he can find – chairs, a table, even a shelf that looks so fragile it might collapse within itself if you'd blow at it the wrong way – before he rushes to Dean's side, an absolutely frantic look on his face. His clothes are covered in Dean's blood and he seems so frightened and overwhelmed the hunter just wants to pull him into an embrace.

But considering his current situation and the fact that he's unable to lift his arms anyway he whispers instead, “Everything will be fine, Cas.”

Of course that's probably far from the truth considering their situation actually does look kinda grim. No one could have known that walking into the supposedly haunted office building would confront them with a bunch of demons who had just been waiting for them to show up at some point and lock them in their trap. Those bastards surely did their homework and warded the entire place so heavily Cas turned completely powerless as soon as he crossed the threshold, entirely clueless what was waiting for them on the other side.

Dean's memory is quite a blur after that, so he has no idea how they managed to escape those bloodthirsty demons. He only remembers a knife being rammed into his guts and Cas hoisting him out of there. That's about it.

And now they're here, in a small back office, and though Dean is pretty sure Cas called Sam on his phone at some point, jolting the jerk out of his research at the library on the opposite part of town, Dean isn't certain his brother will make it in time.

Granted, Cas will be fine until then, considering the mass of demon-repelling sigils he painted of the door and the fact that he's a badass warrior even on a bad day, but Dean isn't so sure he himself will last all that long. Human bodies are frail that way.

“I will be fine,” he says nonetheless because Cas looks so desperate and close to tears Dean can't stand to see him like that.

Cas, however, grimaces. “You don't know that –”

“Wanna bet?”

Cas actually looks affronted at the suggestion. “I won't bet _on your life_ –”

“If I will make it out of this alright,” Dean breathes, his lungs already protesting the exertion, “if I … then you're gonna have to give me daily foot massages for a month, okay?”

Cas presses his lips into a tight line as his eyes already begin to water.

“And if not …” Dean whispers, his sight getting a little fuzzy now, “then … you can … you can keep all my sweatpants 'coz you like them so much …”

“Dean!” Cas' voice is shaky and hoarser than ever before.

“… 'coz you like them so much …” Dean keeps on slurring, in the back of his mind registering that he's saying nonsense, but being absolutely unable to stop himself. “… 'coz you're a weirdo … _my_ weirdo …”

“Dean –”

“… I'm gonna win that bet, Cas … 'coz I like foot massages …”

And then he drifts off and his mind turns blank.

  
  


\-----

  
  


It's quite a while later – after Sam managed to rush to them in record speed and used the good old holy-water-in-the-sprinkler-system trick to give Cas enough time to get himself and Dean outside, see his powers restored, heal Dean, destroy the angel wards and slay all the demons like the world's hottest avenging angel – when Dean and Cas find themselves back in their motel room.

Cas is basically attacking Dean with his lips, hard and urgent kisses that leave the hunter dizzy, fueled by anger and desperation.

“You're _impossible_ ,” Cas growls into Dean's mouth. “Betting on your life …”

Dean can't help a smirk. “Well, I won that bet, didn't I? So how about my foot massage?”

“I never agreed to those terms,” Cas objects as he pushes Dean onto the bed and climbs on top of him. “You _idiot_ –”

He glares at Dean, in all his Heavenly fury, before he begins to rip Dean's clothes off almost violently. The hunter has a second to feel entirely pleased with this course of events, but then he notices the expression on Cas' face and suddenly realizes that the angel seems more determined to dispose of the bloodstained clothes and throw them as far away from them as possible than having any ulterior sexy motive in getting Dean naked.

Dean's entire demeanor gentles immediately and he pulls Cas into a soft kiss. The angel resists at first, still too riled up to appreciate any kind of tender intimacy, but soon enough he relaxes and melts into the touch. They exchange soft kisses while they're pulling each other closer and closer, eager to have not even an inch of distance between them.

“I'm fine,” Dean states, this time absolutely genuine. “I'm not going anywhere.”

They both know fairly well that this is a promise none of them might be able to keep, but it feels good to have it out into the open nonetheless.

“No more bets, though,” Cas insists.

Dean chuckles. “Fine.”

“And I'm expecting a foot massage _from you_ because you were stupid enough to almost get yourself killed,” Cas adds.

Dean merely grins and dives in for another kiss.


	5. Motel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Humans get cranky when they're tired.
> 
> Nobody knows that better than Castiel.
> 
> -

There is a loud yelp coming from the bathroom, instantly followed by a long string of colorful swear words.

Castiel sighs deeply as he puts the book in his hand aside and glances at the hideously green door currently separating him from the hunter.

“You alright in there?” he asks, trying to sound at least somewhat concerned. He highly doubts Dean is in any mortal danger right now, but it can't hurt to put some minimal effort into this.

“ _Alright_?” Dean exclaims through the wood. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

Just a moment later Castiel finds himself confronted with a very agitated looking human, his expression dark as he keeps on cursing underneath his breath and simultaneously rubbing his shower wet hair dry with an almost furious determination.

“You _know_ I'm not alright!” Dean hisses. “This place is freaking haunted!”

Castiel suppresses the urge to sigh yet again. He's been hearing the same thing for days now and it got only worse and worse the more exhausted Dean became after this particular hunt that basically kept them up day and night.

Castiel surely thanks the stars that they managed to kill the monster just about an hour ago and will be able to drive back to the bunker bright and early the next morning.

“I can assure you this motel is _not_ haunted,” Castiel says with as much patience as he can muster. “As I told you _many_ times before.”

“Oh _really_?” Dean snorts. “The shower head dropped onto me like five times, my toe got stuck in the drain and the faucet at the sink nearly exploded into my face. You're just calling that a coincidence?”

“No,” Castiel concedes, and then quickly adds, as Dean's already preparing to get smug over this, “It's a result of low maintenance and you can surely blame the people responsible for this motel for that.” He tilts his head pensively. “Apart from your toe, of course. I assume that's a mixture of clumsiness and exhaustion on your part.”

Dean grimaces hard at him.

“What about the rusty nails on the parking lot that messed up Baby's tires?” he insists. “The burst light bulb last night? Or all those puddles all around outside that are so fucking deep they lead into Hell itself?”

Castiel arches a brow. “So you're saying something is trying to kill you?”

“You should take this seriously, man –”

“I have to admit those assassination attempts are quite unique then,” Castiel says, a quirk on his lips. “Death by puddle. That's truly a new one.”

Dean's pout gets stronger and stronger by the second. “ _Cas_ –”

“I swear to you there is _nothing_ supernatural going on here,” the angel promises, slowly rising to his feet and stepping toward Dean. “The motel is simply in bad shape, that's why it's falling apart. And the puddles are so deep because the parking lot used to be flat like over fifty years ago and is now a proud crater landscape.”

Dean continues to grumble, but doesn't start any further arguments.

“And you running into furniture and door frames and tripping over nothing on the floor?” Castiel smiles softly and cups Dean's only semi-shaven cheek. “You're _tired_ , Dean. Your senses don't work on full speed. And that makes you see things and get cranky along the way.”

Dean scowls at him. “I'm not _cranky_.”

“You _are_ , Dean,” Castiel objects with a low chuckle. “But it's okay, I'm used to it. A lot of humans become cranky when they're exhausted. It basically begins the minute they are born –”

“I'm not a _baby_ , Cas,” Dean protests and looks so grouchy in the process Castiel can't help falling even more in love with him.

So he's seriously not to blame when he leans in and presses his lips gently against Dean's.

Dean keeps on grumbling for a moment, apparently dead set on making his point, but soon enough, just as expected, he melts into the touch and kisses back. They pull each other close, not an inch of space between them, and simply revel in the sensation of being held.

“You're not playing fair,” Dean complains eventually, but there is no heat behind his words. Only poorly concealed affection.

“You have to know better than anyone, I've never played by the rules,” Castiel points out. “Why start now?”

Dean rolls his eyes and mumbles something not even Castiel's superior sense of hearing is able to catch before he nudges the angel toward the bed and makes them both sink onto the sheets.

“You wanna help me sleep at the very least, you smartass?” he teases and waggles his eyebrows in a probably suggestive manner. “Before I've got a chance to think of the millions of bed bugs living in this mattress.”

Castiel runs his fingers through Dean's still damp hair. “You don't need my help to fall asleep.”

“I beg to differ. I'm still not convinced this place isn't haunted.”

However, to nobody's surprise, it takes only twenty seconds for Dean to drift off and quietly snore into Castiel's neck.

And Castiel keeps on holding him the whole night.

While dreaming about carrying Dean across every single vicious puddle blocking their path for the rest of their lives.


	6. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Dean's never been much for jealousy.
> 
> So he is baffled to learn how he could actually manage to end up riled up about something as simple as _cooking_.
> 
> -

Jealousy is usually not something Dean wastes his time with.

Sure, he's only human at the end of the day and it happened once or twice before, but more often than not he has enough common sense to counteract any bad feelings before they fester inside and grow too powerful to handle.

But as he walks into the kitchen and notices Cas standing at the stove making his absolutely perfect pancakes yet again for breakfast something ugly start to bubble inside Dean.

When the angel moved into the bunker and decided to indulge in way more human things Dean had been more than excited to teach him everything he knows. He'd been eager. Giddy. To show Cas the ropes and see him slowly become better and better at the human stuff.

Dean, however, didn't expect the angel to excel him in such a dramatic fashion.

Cas took to cooking like a moth to the flame. Instead of being clumsy and a general mess (like Sam uses to remain until this very day) he suddenly felt in his element and soon enough he was trying all the recipes left and right and enchant everyone around him with his skills.

Dean actually shouldn't have been surprised by this. Cas grew up a soldier, so he is used to following orders, therefore listening to a recipe isn't that hard for him. But he's also always been a rebel at heart, so taking his own twists and create something of his own by bending the rules comes as second nature. And then, of course, is the fact that he's a freaking strategist and weapon specialists. His time management in the kitchen is so perfect it's almost to die for and his ability to handle a knife or flap a spatula has been featured in many of Dean's dreams lately.

Overall, it's an entire experience.

Everyone coos at Cas now and praises his cooking and demands seconds and thirds and whatnot – Sam, Jody, Donna, Charlie, Claire, even Garth that one time he was finally invited back into the bunker after the flooding incident of 2016 – and nobody seems to remember all of a sudden that Dean is actually pretty decent in the kitchen, too.

Granted, he should be happy about the unexpected free time, but instead he can't help feeling a little redundant instead.

So seeing Cas yet again working the kitchen as though it's his territory and his alone makes Dean grimace automatically, he just can't help himself.

“Pancakes?” Cas offers with a bright smile as he notices Dean entering the kitchen.

Dean simply grumbles something underneath his breath and walks straight for the coffeemaker. Perhaps some caffeine might put some manners back into him because at the end of the day he totally knows how stupid it is to be mad about Cas _making breakfast_ for his family.

What sort of pathetic man feels jealous about that?

Dean clings to his mug, takes a few sips and sits down in the perfect position to watch Cas work. While telling himself over and over again to stop being a complete idiot about this and just enjoy the view instead.

Since Cas is pretty hot working his spatula like a battle weapon. His nimble finger gripping the handle, his movements smooth as if it's a dance he's rehearsed many times before.

It's really nice to watch, Dean will give him that.

But when eventually Sam shuffles into the kitchen and swallows Cas' pancakes with gusto while making noises like he's never eaten anything more delicious in his life the ugly sensation in his stomach returns and Dean is unable to do anything about it. So he keeps on sulking in his corner and just keeps to his coffee as the nerds talk about nerd stuff and ignore him entirely.

Unfortunately Cas is a very observant dude and as soon as Sam is gone again, eager to translate some ancient text he found in one of the bunker's backrooms the other day, the angel instantly turns toward Dean with a serious expression.

“You don't like it when I cook, do you?” he says, absolutely bluntly as ever.

And now, hearing it out loud, it sounds even more absurd.

“What? No.” Dean tries to scoff and even though it sounds absolutely fake to his ears he still hopes Cas might not pick up on that. “Why would I? That'd be stupid.”

“Dean …” Cas' voice is soft and sympathetic and it makes a shiver run down Dean's spine. Nobody ever has said his name like the angel does. It's uncanny.

“You wanna watch a movie later?” Dean hurries to deflect. “We could make out on the couch and scar Sammy again. That's always fun.”

Cas doesn't answer at first, just shifts closer and takes Dean's hand in his. He's almost careful as he links their fingers, as though it's something fragile that might break at any time.

“Dean,” he says. “I understand. You feel threatened –”

“That's bullshit, Cas!” Dean interjects immediately. “Why should I feel threatened by you _cooking_?”

“I could stop if you want me to,” Cas offers, his expression open as he looks at the hunter. “I hadn't realized how much this has been troubling you, I'm sorry –”

“This is stupid, Cas.” Dean shakes his head vigorously. “You don't have to _stop_ , dammit – that doesn't even make any sense –”

“Dean …”

The hunter feels himself deflating under Cas' knowing gaze. “Sorry, man, I'm just being ridiculous about this. I don't even understand what's going on …”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Besides me being an irrational moron?”

Cas smiles softly. “You're a nurturer, Dean,” he points out. “You love to take care of people. And sometimes you feel like you _have to_ do that. As though this is your mission in life and without it there's no real reason for your existence.”

Dean snorts. “That's bullshit.”

“It is,” Cas agrees easily. “But it doesn't stop your heart from believing it.”

Dean falls silent and chews on his bottom lip. He hates to admit it, but the angel probably has a point somewhere in there.

“So you're saying it would be much more healthier for me to stop doing that?”

Cas raises their joined hands and presses a tender kiss onto Dean's fingertips. “Of course not,” he says. “It's an important part of you and I love your caring side. You're such a generous man and are willing to offer so much. But if I cook a meal once in a while or give Sam a sponge bath when he's sick you shouldn't feel like you failed a mission.”

Dean stares at him and stays quiet for a long while.

There is definitely truth in Cas' words, taking care of people has always been ingrained deep in his DNA. But sometimes he certainly takes it too far.

“Just let me help you here and there,” Cas proposes. “And don't take it personally when people compliment my cooking. That doesn't automatically mean that your skills in the kitchen are suddenly less important. I mean, we all know Sam would rather commit murder than eat anyone's mac'n'cheese but yours.”

Dean chuckles at that. “Yeah, maybe.”

Cas squeezes Dean's hand tightly and shoots him a dazzling smile.

“I guess it might not be so bad to take turns from time to time,” Dean concedes at last. “Because your cooking _is_ pretty amazing. Sorry for being such a dickhead and not telling you sooner.”

Cas smirks. “So you liked it?”

“Those spinach ravioli you made the other day?” Dean feels his mouth water at the mere memory. “Damn, they made me weep.”

Cas leans forward and brushes a light kiss against Dean's temple. “How about next time we cook together? I would like that very much.”

Dean responds to that with a gentle kiss in return, his lips only hungry for Cas'.

“Yeah, I'd like that too.”

Cas buries his fingers in Dean's hair and yanks him back in. This time the kiss ends up a little more heated and Dean can't help moaning lowly into the angel's mouth.

“You said something about a movie and making out on the couch?” Cas reminds him with a twinkle in his eyes as they have to separate for air. “That actually sounds very tempting right now.”

Dean grins widely and pulls them both on their feet.

But then he stops as he suddenly recalls a very important subject they have to address first.

“Oh, and by the way,” he says, lifting his finger in a clear _'listen to me, buddy'_ gesture, “you will _never_ give Sam a sponge bath, you hear me? _NEVER EVER_! As long as I live. And beyond.”

Cas merely laughs and pulls him out of the kitchen.


	7. Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Dean wants to clear up some things.
> 
> Right in the middle of a thunderstorm, as it turns out.
> 
> -

It's on a dark night right in the middle of a field close to nowhere when Dean finds himself realizing that all his life he never really had known what intimacy even truly means.

Sure, he experienced it with a handful of people before, so he certainly never figured himself to be a stranger to it, but the thing he has with Cas is on such a whole different level it makes him aware how utterly clueless he had been.

It's quite a strange epiphany to have on the Impala's backseat parked on an abandoned field, but it surely hits him unprecedented.

Of course the main factor of that revelation is the angel on whose lap he's currently sitting on.

When about an hour ago finally a chance arose to have some alone time with Cas Dean surely hadn't hesitated to grasp the opportunity. It's just been two days since their first kiss and since then it's been a whirlwind of emotions and monster cases and cockblocking brothers too oblivious to notice the change in relationship between hunter and angel.

Dean had been craving for some privacy with Cas, to finally sort everything out and hopefully continue where they had been so rudely interrupted before. So when Sam earlier this evening offhandedly mentioned that he could use something to eat Dean happily offered to make a food run and dragged Cas out of their motel room to accompany him before Sam even had a chance to puzzle about Dean's weird behavior.

Instead of driving straight to the food joint, though, Dean took another turn out of town and brought them deep into the open fields they passed when they arrived at this place.

And he honestly only planned to talk a little and perhaps navigate where they're standing right now with each other because that uncertainty had been driving him crazy for the last two days, but instead of awkwardly stumbling through a conversation about feelings and whatnot they quickly found themselves in the other's arms.

Kisses were exchanges, first soft and unhurried, and then fast and heated. Clothes were scattered. And before Dean even knew what was happening Cas heaved him onto the backseat as though the hunter weighted nothing and then they got lost in the sensation of lust and touch.

And now he's sitting on Cas' lap, gasping and panting and happily tingling all over because the experience has been way more earth-shattering that he could have ever imagined. And he can't wait to do it again and again and again until the end of his days.

However, the after … well, it turns out to be just as amazing.

Instead of putting their clothes back on and resume with their task of getting the hungry Samquatch something to nibble on they just stay where they are. Gentle touches, tender kisses, muttered words of affections. Dean runs his fingertips over Cas' skin and there is no urgency to it, no goal or agenda. He just wants to feel, to touch, and to never stop.

Cas seems to be not far behind. His eyes, always so vibrant and alive, are actually glowing now as they look at Dean like he's the most precious thing in the whole wide world. Like there has never been anything more important in his entire existence than Dean right here in his embrace. And as he cards his fingers through Dean's hair and presses a chaste kiss onto his forehead the hunter honest-to-God blushes because he can't remember ever feeling like this before.

They get so lost in each other that they forget everything around them. It's just when Dean suddenly notices a loud crashing sound somewhere close that he finds the strength to avert his gaze from Cas for a second.

Still rather reluctant, of course, but the noise had been loud enough to grasp him attention.

“What was that?” he wonders and realizes right away how husky his voice sounds.

“A thunderstorm,” Cas informs him casually.

Dean blinks. “What?”

It's pitch black outside and it takes the hunter a moment to notice that the moonlight obviously had disappeared somewhere along the way. Instead there are dark clouds, only illuminated by an excited cascade of lightning bolts. The whole sky seems to be in uproar.

And Dean didn't notice a thing. Even the rain hammering on the Impala's roof had gone completely undetected.

Damn.

Cas is seriously doing a number on him.

“Should we take cover somewhere?” Dean wonders, even though the thought of letting go of Cas is nearly impossible to comprehend. “I mean, we're on an open field and everything …”

“We're inside a car, so it'll be fine,” Cas assures him. “Besides, if worse comes to worse, I'm gonna protect you.”

Dean shoots him a fond look. “You sap.”

But that's probably it, isn't it? His instincts didn't act up because they knew without any doubt that Dean would be safe with his angel, no matter what. So why care about a measly thunderstorm when you've got a superpower nova to keep you out of harm's way at all times?

Dean leans in again and kisses the living daylight out of Cas, reveling in the feeling and the knowledge that this is his life now.

Because the way Cas is looking at him, touching him, made Dean fall apart underneath his hand earlier – that's not just a short-lived little fling, is it?

“So are we,” Dean whispers as he peppers small kisses onto Cas' cheek, “are we like … well, I mean … a thing now?”

Wow, very smooth.

Cas certainly must swoon on his feet.

“A thing?”

The angel is most likely aiming for confused here, but there is way too much amusement in his tone for him to not know what is going on.

Bastard.

Dean pulls back a little and tries to glare at him. He's not exactly sure if he manages to succeed due to his ongoing state of dazed happiness, but he's giving it a try anyway.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles. “Just answer the question.”

Cas chuckles. “You're a very romantic individual, I have to admit.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “And you're a sassy son of a bitch.”

“Considering I'm technically the son of God, you stay corrected.”

For a moment Dean simply stares at him, his jaw slack.

And then he throws his head back and bursts out laughing so loudly he even drowns out the thunder.

“Damn, I love you,” he can't help sighing.

And then he freezes because that's _certainly_ not what he meant to say.

Not so soon anyway.

But Cas' expression merely gentles as he answers, “I love you, too.”

Dean meets his gaze, so steady and unwavering. As if there have never been words easier to utter than these.

And Dean's heart rate spikes up to a new record at the utter devotion in Cas' eyes.

“So yes, we are a _thing_ now,” Cas adds, a soft smile on his lips. “As romantic as that sounds.”

And before Dean has any chance to react Cas manhandles him again and maneuvers him into a horizontal position on the backseat with the angel right on top of him. Dean makes a pleased sound at this turn of events before yanking Cas back in for yet another kiss.

And so they stay like this for a long while, just them, Baby and the thunderstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumor has it Sam is still waiting for his food till this very day 😂
> 
> #PrayForSam


	8. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> It's a normal day.
> 
> -

It's a normal day.

And no, nowadays that doesn't mean a hunt. It doesn't mean dingy motel rooms, endless hours of research, fake names, greasy diner food, unhelpful authorities. And it certainly doesn't mean monster and spirits and blood and violence anymore.

Sure, it's still part of their lives, but it's not the most prominent one.

No, nowadays a normal day for Dean is standing in the kitchen and preparing his roast with Cas standing right next to him, cutting all the vegetables Sam is absolutely insisting on being added to their dinner and randomly rambling about whatever topic is currently crossing his mind, while Sam is sitting at the kitchen table shooting them amused glances while simultaneously texting Eileen, probably complaining about the mountains of dishes he has to clean afterwards, the lazy bastard.

Yes, that's the new normal for them now.

And Dean loves it.

Because it gives him something he never really had: Hope.

Hope for a future. A future where he doesn't end maimed and bloodied in some morgue way too young. A future where he doesn't constantly wonder if the breath he's currently taking might be his last.

No, instead there are family dinners and movie nights and sometimes actual road trips just for the purpose of getting out of the house and seeing the world. There is Sam having a serious girlfriend and thinking about retiring, maybe going back to school again. And there is Cas, always at Dean's side, more than happy to spend time with him, in whatever way.

It's slow and quiet. And so very awesome.

So Dean can't help himself leaning towards the angel and pressing a soft kiss onto his lips, stopping the latest rant about the inaccuracies of the History Channel in its very core.

Cas blinks at him, an endearing smile on his lips. “What was that for?”

Dean merely shrugs his shoulders. “Just felt like it.”

And then he goes back to work like nothing happened.

After all, it's a normal day.


	9. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Sam comes up with one hell of a cover story.
> 
> -

Dean has been undercover for many times in his life.

FBI agent, Homeland Security officer, reporter, janitor, gym teacher, lunch lady, maintenance guy, minister, private detective, and so on and so on. The list is so long that he's actually more familiar with playing a role when interacting with strangers than being himself.

So when they're on yet another case again and Sam calls him from the local library and tells him to dress up Dean doesn't even think about questioning it.

“Your fanciest clothes,” Sam orders, making it pretty clear there should be no discussion about it. “Designer suit, shiny shoes. And a shave because you're starting to look like a hobo.”

Dean barely lifts an eyebrow. “What do you need me to be? A snobby multimillionaire too good for this world.”

“The snobbiest,” Sam agrees. “It needs to look like the stench of money is following you everywhere.”

And so Dean does as he's told.

A while ago he got himself one of those super expensive Armani or whatever outfits for a case (thanks to Charlie's unlimited credit card no problem at all) and has it stashed in the depths of Baby's trunk ever since. It's only been used once so far considering fake FBI agents or journalists are rarely dressed in designer suits. At least not if they don't want to draw too much unwanted attention to them.

Dean isn't exactly sure the damned thing still fits after all that time, but after a quick shower and shave he gives it a try and finds himself pleasantly surprised when the suit still wraps itself over his body like a glove. Only around the hips it got a bit tight, but if he'd refrain from bending over it should be fine.

And it actually makes his ass look extra great, Dean has to admit. He snaps a quick picture of it and sends it to Cas because he can't help himself. Cas answers immediately with a long string of enthusiastic emojis that are both incredibly sweet, involving lots of hearts, as well as highly inappropriate and Dean loves him even more for it.

He makes a mental note to wear that suit the next time they'll be alone to see how fast the angel would be able to rip the clothes off his body and then he heads out to meet with Sam.

Soon enough he finds himself in front of a jewelry store, with his tall mountain of a brother waiting at the entrance. He is dressed in fancy clothes as well and considering he left their motel room a few hours ago just with his usual plaid attire he obviously went shopping in the meantime. The suit doesn't fit a hundred percent in some places, making it obvious this was a rather quick shopping trip with no time for a proper fitting, but it makes him nonetheless look extra posh too.

“We look good,” Dean remarks with a grin as he stops next to Sam. “Like we could buy all of the world in a heartbeat and still have a couple of millions left as pocket money.”

Sam merely huffs with a fond smile. “If you say so.”

“So what is the situation?” Dean asks, pointing at the store.

“I just got a lead that our annoying spirit might have a connection to a wristband that's on display here,” Sam tells him. “It had belonged to her before she died. And I know it's not much, but I wanna check it out anyway.”

That specific spirit had been annoying them for days now because they were unable to figure out what kept her here in the first place. So Dean will take any lead they can get, no matter how small.

“I'm actually not very optimistic,” Sam explains with a sigh. “But our ghost is showing up here in the area, so it's not a total longshot. We just need to get inside and distract the employees a little.”

“Hence the fancy clothes.” Dean nods in understanding. He highly doubts they would've even gotten past the security guard on the door in their usual jeans. Most likely even their regular FBI suits wouldn't have been good enough.

“So we just go inside and one of us pretends to be a customer while the other subtly checks out that wristband?” Dean asks nonetheless.

Sam nods. “Don't worry, I have a plan.”

Dean blinks, but has no time for further questioning since Sam's already shoving him through the gigantic front door. He's instantly greeted with lots of bling and bright lights and the absolute perfect room temperature (like seriously, did they hire a guy just to keep a close eye on that the entire time?) before getting pushed to the main counter where a blonde woman with a way too wide smile happily waits to bury her flawlessly manicured nails into those new potential buyers.

“Welcome,” she says, her voice as melodic and perfect as the air in the store. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Well, we've got an important purchase to make,” Sam announces, sounding all kinds of pompous. “Because you see, my brother here,” he grabs Dean's shoulders and grins at him with such an intensity Dean can't help feeling wary all of a sudden, “he intends to propose to his boyfriend.”

Dean blinks rapidly.

_What_?

Okay, Dean certainly didn't expect _that_.

The woman – Marlene, as her name tag tells them – seems taken aback by that for a moment as well, but she picks herself up much quicker than Dean. Her smile increases a few thousand watt while she turns toward the groom-to-be. “This is wonderful. Congratulations!”

Dean feels a bit like he's been hit right in the face, out of nowhere.

Thankfully he is actually used to unexpected violent attacks and has learned fairly early to deal with them.

“Um … thanks,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heating up.

Marlene apparently misinterprets his awkward fumbling for adorable shyness or whatever and looks at him like she's ready to adopt him right here on the spot.

“You have to excuse him, this is still a bit much for him,” Sam leaps back into the conversation. “He's been thinking about this moment for _years_ and I guess it might be a tad surreal that it's finally happening.”

“Really?” Marlene seems truly intrigued hearing that.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs way too dramatically, “Dean's basically been thinking about marrying Cas since the first moment they met.”

Well.

Actually his first meeting with Cas was more like Dean having a sudden realization á la, _“Wow, he's hot!”_ and then stabbing the guy in the chest.

But Dean refrains from pointing that one out.

It might have ended in those people declaring them insane and kicking them out of the store. And though Dean is used to the first, he doesn't need the latter right now.

“Dean just wants everything to be perfect,” Sam points out, sounding exactly like a guy who is used to getting what he wants. “It's a big day.”

“It most certainly is,” Marlene agrees, dollar signs already flashing up in her eyes. “We have a vast collection of engagement rings and I'm sure we will find something to your liking.”

“Money is not the issue,” Sam says those magic words that make Marlene even more excited, so it seems. “The bigger and more extravagant, the better.”

Marlene smiles widens, appearing incredibly sweet and harmless on the surface. But Dean knows a predator focusing on its prey when he sees it.

On instinct he actually wants to take a step back and hide, but instead he gathers enough courage to meet her smile. It's still somewhat wobbly, but she probably blames it on his alleged nervousness about that big change in his life.

“Why don't you tell me a little bit about your Cas?” she prods him. “What is he like?”

Dean shoots a quick glance at his brother, cursing him for having to endure this in the first place, before clearing his throat and responding, “He's … um, awesome.”

Way to go, Winchester.

She is certainly swooning on the spot.

Dean winces inwardly and forces himself to get a little bit more into his role. After all, he is used to the undercover life, so this shouldn't be too hard.

For a minute there he even considers to lie about Cas' personality, wondering whether that would make it easier to talk about him to a total stranger, but as he's just about to come up with some made-up character traits, he hears himself saying, “Well, to be fair, he's an asshole.”

Marlene looks at him in surprise while Sam in the background rolls his eyes.

“Uh … okay?” Marlene answers, clearly not sure how to reply to that.

“Cas is grumpy,” Dean goes on, now a fond smile flickering over his features. “I'm quite certain he is the biggest grump in the history of mankind, to be honest. And he's way too sassy for his own good. Also he has no idea how to clean up after himself and he always hums those annoying jingles he heard on the radio or whatever. _All_ day. I'm actually surprised I haven't gone mad many years ago.”

Or maybe he has.

With his life, who could tell?

“But he's also a badass,” Dean continues, registering the only other employee who's been lacking any customers at the moment sliding closer with clear interest in her eyes. “No one should dare to screw around with him. And the few that actually did regretted it pretty quickly.”

That's, of course, an understatement actually, but he won't go into much detail now. For those poor women's sanity.

“And he cares, so much,” Dean goes on, an affectionate smile settling on his face when his thoughts drift closer to Cas. It's an automatic response at this point and he's pretty sure it'll stay like that for the rest of his life. “Even about that stupid little fly that got lost into our room a couple of weeks ago. It feels like we spent hours catching that thing and releasing it back into the wild. But what could you have done, you know? Cas would've been miserable if that fly would've died inside and that's something nobody wants to see. Believe me. He looks like a kicked puppy when he's sad.”

The salesladies scoots even closer, captivated by Dean gushing over his boyfriend. While Sam subtly starts to step back a little and check out the rest of the display, trying to locate the wristband of their obnoxious ghost.

Dean clears his throat, despite still feeling like he's been thrown into icy water without any warning whatsoever by his traitorous brother more than determined to play this role like their lives depend on it. After all, there here and they might not get a second chance.

So Dean gives it all he's got.

“So yes, Cas, he's great,” he says. “He's been my best friend for such a long time now and I … I guess I want him at my side for the rest of my life. And even beyond that.”

Dean smiles at the image of sharing his Heaven with Cas one day. It might be a hassle to get there at first – after all, Cas' relationship with his brethren is still not the best –, but Dean has no doubt that it'll come true eventually. Cas is way too much of a stubborn son of a bitch to not see this through.

Dean blinks as he suddenly realizes that he is in fact beginning to fantasize about Cas by his side forever as a real possibility.

Huh.

“As mentioned, we have a vast collection of engagement rings to help you start this new chapter of your life,” Marlene says with a happy sigh. “We would be more than happy to help you with your endeavor.”

Dean stares at her for a moment.

Oh right. Rings. The case.

“Yes, right,” he mutters, a slight blush on his face now. “It … it needs to be perfect.”

Marlene and her colleague – Amanda, as her name tag tells him – immediately spur into action and for the next ten minutes Dean sees himself confronted with a huge variety of different rings in all shapes and forms. A few are actually quite simple and elegant – silver bands with a couple of nice highlights – and some are seriously so over-the-top pompous and big Dean has no idea how a normal human being should be able to wear that on their hand.

But he smiles at them all and fakes such exaggerated interest both Marlene and Amanda seem to believe they're in Heaven themselves.

And it seems like a freaking eternity until Sam pops up next to him again.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he jumps right into their enthusiastic conversation. “My girlfriend just texted me. Her doctor's appointment ended way earlier than expected and I need to pick her up.”

A blatant lie, of course, considering Eileen is back at the bunker with Cas, probably getting her ass beaten in every single board game invented by the best of all strategists Heaven has ever produced.

“But don't worry, Dean will be back shortly,” Sam promises right away as both Marlene and Amanda look rather crestfallen at those news. “After all, Dean can't wait to get married.”

They bid hasty goodbyes and are soon enough back on the streets again.

“So, any luck?” Dean asks when he's starting to remember the real reason why they went into the store in the first place.

“I found the wristband,” Sam admits. “But there's no suspicious energy to it. It's just jewelry.”

“Damn,” Dean sighs. “Well, it was worth a shot, at least.”

“Yeah …”

“And that was one hell of a cover story, Sammy,” Dean can't help pointing out for some reason.

Sam shoots him a quick glance, something intense flickering over his features.

“It wasn't though, right?” he asks in the end. “A cover story, I mean. Not really, at least.”

Dean frowns. On first instinct he wants to deny that, just wants to scoff at his brother's face and get on with his life, but then he thinks about Cas and how nice he would look with a ring on his finger and he finds himself lowering his gaze to cover up the flush on his cheeks.

“Uh … well, maybe it wasn't really a cover story after all,” he admits, his voice low, yet steady.

“So you want to go back?” Sam wonders, a smile on his lips. “Look at those rings again? When this case is over and everything.”

Dean blinks. A few of those rings actually did look kind of awesome, if he's honest with himself. And sure, they're pretty expensive, but also very durable (an important feature in their line of work), and Dean surely didn't lie when he said that Cas only deserves the best.

So he finds himself muttering, “Yeah, I guess I wouldn't mind going back” and feels rather good about it.

Seems like Dean seriously has an important purchase to make after all.


	10. Salad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> #PrayForSam
> 
> #AndPrayForHisSalad
> 
> -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> The stuff you get suggested when you have the free choice of words and eventually ask a random word converter for help 😂
> 
> But I hope you had fun with all these little installments and I really appreciate all your lovely words 😘
> 
> -

Dean hums in satisfaction as Cas' mouth gently trails down his neck.

The hunter bends his head to the side a little to give Cas better access and revels in the sensation of those hot lips brushing over his skin. He loves the feel of it – the warmth, Cas' stubble, the occasional nibbling and biting – and he could happily live like this for the rest of his days.

Sam, however, doesn't seem to appreciate it.

_Especially_ not during lunch time.

“Seriously, guys?” he groans, staring at the couple across from the him at the table with a hard glare. “Right in front of my salad?”

He gestures at the bowl with rabbit food underneath his nose to get his point across.

Cas completely ignores him, not swaying off his mission even once, while Dean just finds enough energy to acknowledge his brother's mere existence by shooting him an incredulous glance.

“Did you _really_ just say that?”

Sam answers with a scowl. “This is where we're _eating_ , idiot!”

“Yeah, so?” Dean scoffs. “Cas is eating _me_ right now, so I don't see the problem.”

Sam groans and curses and eventually rushes out of the kitchen, taking his beloved salad with him.

“You're being rude again,” Cas points out while simultaneously showering Dean's pulse point with a lot of attention.

Dean blinks, a little dazedly. “It's not my fault, asshole. _You_ are the one who's insatiable since I gave you the ring.”

It's certainly true.

Dean never considered making a big event of his proposal and eventually just fell to his knee in their bedroom, right in the middle of Cas preparing for the night.

Cas stared at the ring for a seriously long time, not moving a single muscle, and just when Dean began to fear that the angel might have no interest in such a sort of bond with his human companion Cas pulled him into a sensual kiss, pressed him against the wall behind him, lifted him upwards and ravished the hunter right there on the spot. Afterwards he threw Dean onto their bed, like he just was a mere rag doll, and continued to devour him with such a determination Dean lost his head somewhere along the way.

And it was about three hours later when Cas suddenly remembered to say “yes” to Dean's proposal.

Since then about two weeks have passed and the angel hadn't stopped since. Either he stares at Dean with so much love and devotion it's almost unbearable or his gaze gets heated and clothes are being ripped off before Dean even knows what's happening. And then just afterwards Cas argues passionately with the History Channel and Dean laughs his ass off the entire time.

It's surely been a wild roller coaster ride.

And Dean loves it.

“You are to blame for traumatizing Sam's salad,” Cas objects, for the first time since he entered the kitchen detaching himself from Dean's neck to look him into the eyes. “With that ring you offered eternity to me. How did you expect me to react?”

Dean can't help a fond smile. “You're a dork.”

“And you should learn to take responsibility.”

Dean rolls his eyes before pressing a quick kiss onto Cas' lips. “Okay, _fine_ , this is all my fault. I'm a horrible human being for proposing to you without taking that salad's feelings into consideration.”

“Glad we agree on that.”

Dean huffs. “Look at us. Engaged for two weeks and already acting like an old married couple.”

The corners of Cas' mouth twitch upwards as he runs his fingers gently through Dean's hair. “According to Sam we have been behaving like that for many years.”

On first instinct Dean wants to protest, because _hey_ , but when he takes a moment to actually think about it he can't help realizing that Sam indeed might have a point here. The sassing, the bickering, the arguments about the most mundane stuff, the over-protectiveness – it's been painting a certain picture for a long while now. Dean just took his sweet time to catch up on that.

“Yeah, okay, maybe Sammy's right for a change,” he concedes in the end. “We're that classic old married couple for years now.”

Cas smiles easily, his gaze flickering to the silver band on his finger. “And with the ring you finally made it official.”

Dean can't help leaning in once more, kissing his fiancé – his _FIANCÉ_ – all slow and tender. Enjoying the sensation of warmth and closeness he only ever felt with Cas.

“I love you,” he whispers against Cas' lips. “So much … can't wait to call you my husband …”

Yes, he can't wait to be old and married. To sit on the couch every evening and watch their shows and argue about their favorite characters. To fold laundry together and meet up for lunch in town. To be way too exhausted to do about anything than falling into bed and wrapping their arms around each other before instantly drifting to sleep like old, tired men.

It sounds amazing.

“We're gonna be so domestic and boring people will roll their eyes at us _all the time_ ,” Dean promises, feeling stupidly giddy at the prospect. “We'll debate about the right detergent for hours like it's the most important decision of our lives and then we crawl into bed and fall asleep at 9 PM.”

Cas raises an eyebrow at that. “That is your dream life?”

“Well, of course I'm not complaining about you ravishing me in the kitchen and scarring Sam and his food once in a while,” Dean adds with a wink.

Cas chuckles. “Good to know.”

Dean brushes his fingertip over the ring on Cas' finger, grinning at the pleasant shiver running down his spine at the feeling of the cold metal on his skin.

“Love you,” he whispers again. Because in his opinion those words can't be uttered enough.

Cas' expression gentles even further. “I love you, too.”

And so they stay like that for a long time, just staring into each other's eyes and murmur sweet words to one another, full of affection and hope for the future.


End file.
